


Fic: Tweed

by alba17



Category: Sherlock Holmes (2009)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-27
Updated: 2010-03-27
Packaged: 2017-10-08 09:01:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/74897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alba17/pseuds/alba17
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Holmes gets off Watson in an alley - through his trousers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fic: Tweed

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
**Current mood:** |   
rushed  
---|---  
**Current music:** | Judy And The Dream Of Horses - Belle &amp; Sebastian  
**Entry tags:** |   
[character: holmes](http://alba17.livejournal.com/tag/character:%20holmes), [character: watson](http://alba17.livejournal.com/tag/character:%20watson), [genre: smut](http://alba17.livejournal.com/tag/genre:%20smut), [pairing: holmes/watson](http://alba17.livejournal.com/tag/pairing:%20holmes/watson), [rating: nc-17](http://alba17.livejournal.com/tag/rating:%20nc-17), [sherlock holmes](http://alba17.livejournal.com/tag/sherlock%20holmes)  
  
  
_**Fic: Tweed**_  
**Title**: Tweed  
**Fandom**: Sherlock Holmes (movieverse)  
**Pairing**: Holmes/Watson  
**Rating**: NC-17  
**Word Count**: 1244 words (4th story I've written in this fandom and they are all the SAME length. Weird.)  
**Summary**: Holmes gets off Watson in an alley - through his trousers. That's it.  
A/N: For [](http://sherlockkink.livejournal.com/profile)[**sherlockkink**](http://sherlockkink.livejournal.com/) prompt: _Holmes/Watson oral sex through pants._ Since the prompt referred to tweed suits, I assume the person meant trousers and not underwear.

  
The fabric was grey, shot through with the merest suggestion of a paler shade, nubby under Holmes' thumb as it languidly traced the line of Watson's dick. Holmes had Watson shoved up against a brick wall, his shoulder leaning into the other man's with a hint of force. Their heads were bowed in concentration, both mesmerized by the movements of Holmes' hand against the swelling bulge. Watson repressed a moan.

The air was dank and clogged with smoke, the alley narrow and stinking of refuse, verging on claustrophobic. Yet neither man was particularly aware of their surroundings. Their breath mingled, close and hot. A frisson of fear sent sparks through their limbs; anticipation made them eager and careless.

Watson pressed his hand on the other man's, his fingers sliding into the spaces between Holmes', the shape of his knuckles and the stretch of his skin a familiar territory. "Holmes," he whispered, pleading. Holmes leaned in for a kiss, tongue slick and urgent as it slipped between the other man's lips. His palm rubbed hard over the tweed-covered cock. Watson's erection stuck out, brazen and obvious, and the grey trousers stretched tautly over its rigid form. He thrust up greedily into Holmes' touch.

Desperate and wanting, Watson's lips latched onto to Holmes', his tongue searching deep into his mouth. He grasped the other man's shoulders forcefully, and gave him a firm push downward. Holmes landed hard on his knees, and looked up, smirking, dark eyes knowing and filled with lust. His lips already looked swollen and used, and the sight made Watson swallow thickly.

"Do it," he said gruffly.

"Doctor's orders," Holmes said, sneering. He licked his lips.

Holmes clasped Watson's hips, hands trailing over the textured fabric and fingertips sinking into the soft flesh behind the bones. Pressing his nose into Watson's crotch, he nuzzled along the firm line of his cock encased in the trousers, breathing in the other man's scent. It was so much _him_, it drove him wild, the heat and the musk of it strong beneath the trousers he'd been wearing all day. He traced Watson's erection with his mouth, nipping as well as he could through the thick fabric, the hardness frustratingly cocooned but tantalizingly near. Watson dug his fingers into his shoulders, encouraging. _Cheeky devil._ Holmes groped for the other man's balls through the bunched material between his legs. When he found them, he squeezed, feeling the soft flesh tighten satisfyingly. Watson flinched and his legs shook.

Holmes ran his palm over the bulge of Watson's cock again. He was starting to salivate. He made a move to unfasten the trousers, but Watson stilled him. "No. Not here." Holmes nodded. No need to say more. The promise of another time, another place, was there in Watson's half-lidded eyes and crooked grin. Holmes' lips lifted slightly at the edges, a private smile.

He applied himself anew to Watson's crotch, rubbing his face against it like a cat scratching an itch, the fabric rough against his cheek. Watson steadied himself, spreading his legs wider, more weight on Holmes' shoulders. Holmes could feel Watson's long, hard muscles flexing under the trousers as his hands spanned his upper thighs. Breath ragged and quick, Holmes kneaded the solid flesh of Watson's erection, fingers grasping what he could through the tweed. He mouthed the cloth, imagining what lay beneath, the silken texture tipped by a growing pearl of moisture, the salty-sour taste of it as he ran his tongue through the slit at the top, Watson's gasps of pleasure. His movements became almost frenzied, the material getting damp from his lips and tongue, a growl escaping his throat. Watson gripped his hair by the handful, pulling hard, nails scraping his scalp, but Holmes barely felt it.

Watson's thighs were quivering now, his back was arched, just his shoulders pressing against the rough bricks of the wall behind him. Not long now. A swipe of his tongue over the blunt cloth-covered top of Watson's cock and Holmes could detect the pre-come leaking through the fabric, blending with his own saliva as he pressed and rubbed, kneaded and squeezed. The trousers could barely contain Watson now and the fastenings strained at their seams. Watson surged up into Holmes' face with a stifled groan as Holmes steadied his hips.

Holmes smiled, leaning his face into Watson's still-impressive cock, affectionately squeezing his arse. He adored making Watson come, seeing the respectable doctor completely unravel, his inhibitions melting away with the judicious application of Holmes' mouth, tongue, or cock. Even in love, the deductive principle had its uses.

Watson collapsed into a half-standing position against the wall, trying to recover. The grey fabric of the trousers was now visibly darkened over his crotch, but he paid it no mind for the moment. Holmes scrambled up with a brief assessing look down the alleyway. Watson was bending down with his hands on his knees, and he looked up at Holmes with raised eyebrows, still breathing hard. Holmes casually leaned against the wall next to him, and Watson stood up. Their shoulders touched. They shared a look and a broad smile spread slowly over Watson's face before he tipped his head back, bending a knee and bracing one foot on the wall. Holmes smiled back and reached for Watson's hand next to him.

"So..." Watson caught Holmes' eye, then flicked a glance towards his crotch, where there was a significant bulge. He looked down the alleyway towards the street, then placed his hand over it. Holmes sharply inhaled.

"Shouldn't I...?" Watson squeezed and Holmes' eyebrows rose high up on his forehead. He blew out a breath, trying to maintain control.

"My dear Watson, I have to say, you met this challenge with aplomb. Wasn't sure you could handle it. However, I think perhaps the next round should be in more private circumstances." He placed his hand over Watson's. "Such as our rooms."

Watson curled a hand around his neck and kissed him, tongue tracing the seam of his lips. "You forget, I'm a decorated war veteran. I've had to get by in all sorts of difficult conditions." He applied a line of kisses down Holmes' jaw. "I agree though, damp, sticky tweed is hardly an aphrodisiac," he said, murmuring closely, hips twitching.

"No, but apparently dry tweed is. I had failed to deduce that." Holmes looked puzzled for a moment, then kissed him back.

"Ah, you mean I've taught the great Sherlock Holmes something about the sexual possibilities of tweed?" Watson pulled Holmes' hips into his. "What a shocking lapse in your mental powers." He grinned, with a little grinding movement of his hips.

Holmes stared at him, then snorted. "Perhaps, old boy, perhaps." He stepped back, gesturing down the alleyway. "But I've got a few more tricks up my sleeve that you haven't seen yet. Shall we go investigate these matters further at Baker Street?" He offered his arm to Watson, who was buttoning up his coat all the way, to ensure coverage of his stained trousers.

"By all means, old cock." Watson looked down significantly before hooking his arm in Holmes'.

"As you well know, things are quite vigorous in that area, and there is nothing remotely old about it." Holmes lifted his chin into the air and sniffed.

"There, there." Watson patted his arm. "I'm happy to help you with the heavy lifting." He grinned lopsidedly as they strode out of the alleyway, attempting to look vaguely respectable.  



End file.
